


Make A Statement

by thelordofstarsanddreams



Series: Through My Eyes [1]
Category: A Court of Mist and Fury - Fandom, A Court of Thorns and Roses, A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas, Sarah J. Maas
Genre: A Court of Smut, Bond Mates, F/M, Feyre is a tease, Rhys POV, Rhys needs a hug, The Court of Nightmares, shameless filth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-19
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-08-09 18:12:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7812046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelordofstarsanddreams/pseuds/thelordofstarsanddreams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Court of Nightmares scene from ACoMaF as told in Rhysand's PoV. Expect a very smutty internal monologue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make A Statement

**Author's Note:**

> I am recently new to the fandom and I've been out of writing for a very long time. After finishing ACoTaR, I felt inspired to write again. So be forgiving. And I hope you enjoy. Also Sarah J. Maas owns the verse and the characters.

Not a day went by when I didn’t wish I could level the Court of Nightmares and all those within it.

They were vermin.

Little ants weaving through a poisoned hill, feeding off the kind of darkness our Court was famed for.  
Were it not for the need to keep up certain appearances and reputation, I would have destroyed the mountain the minute I had escaped after Amarantha’s death.

Today however, was more of a show than it had ever been.

By now my Inner Circle knew the roles they had to play as well as I did.

It was Feyre I was worried about.

The woman was not to be underestimated. I had seen how she had handled herself in Amarantha’s court when she had been a fragile human. And now she was so far from fragile.

Yet this was a side of me that she had only seen a fragment of and despite being warned of the role I was to play, I feared that when we left she would not be able to look at me and see anything other than the Lord of darkness and death I was presented as.

“She’ll be fine, Rhys.”

Cassian’s voice was a low murmur, barely audible to myself never mind anyone else. We could not risk anyone seeing the mask fall. So I merely gave a small nod, to both him and Azriel, before the two set off before me, towards the throne room. It was time to make my entrance.

The power which swelled in the very core of my being radiated into the air, the ground, the very fabric of existence.

They would all know I was here.

I could practically sense the terror building with each approaching footstep, until they were before me, like trembling bugs scattered before that hideous throne.  
But Feyre…

Like Under the Mountain she fell into her role with such ease, and I couldn’t help but look to her for the briefest moment. There was no fear in those eyes of hers, but rather she looked almost captivated. With that black diadem upon her head, disregarding the choice of attire, which I couldn’t regret entirely when she looked so delectable, the woman before me was every bit a Queen.

Then they were all on their knees before me. A respectful bow to the Lord they otherwise ignored.

“Well, well. Looks like you’re all on time for once.”

There was a wave of terror and dread which washed over those before me. None met my eye. Too afraid that they would be torn from their sockets.

But they needed to see the little show we had prepared for them.

As if no one else in the court existed, I approached my new pet. Reaching for her chin, to lift her gaze to meet my own, I had to silently reign myself in, finding it much too easy to be distracted by the soft warmth of her skin.

“Welcome to my home, Feyre Cursebreaker. Come with me.”

Oh how coy she was. Looking at me from under thick lashes. So sweet and shy. The predator within me was snapping against the surface, bubbling just beneath my skin, snarling for freedom.

I settled on the throne and within a heartbeat, Feyre was on my lap, my arm curling around her. It was all a game and yet, I wanted them to see. Wanted them all to witness the silent claim I had made.

The woman had permitted me to do as necessary to keep up the distraction while Azriel stole the orb, and while I hated that I had to make a spectacle of her, much like I had done Under the Mountain, part of my very existence craved that freedom to touch her.

The material of her outfit allowed me to trace the length of her ribs, so much better filled out than when she’d first arrived from the Spring Court. My other hand fell to her legs, slipping over the curve of her knee, across the inside of her thigh. How soft she was.

As if boredom had settled, I dismissed them all to roam, everyone but Keir.

That creature was the focus of all this.

Mor’s father, not that he deserved such a connection to her anymore.

I wish she had taken my offer already and killed every single one of her travesty of a family.

One day.

For now, Keir was taking the bait, looking to Feyre like a dog he highly disapproved of.

If that disapproval bought us time, then I would play to it.

So the man began to talk, and as he did, I continued my attentions dedicated solely to Feyre. My fingers trailed higher along the inside of her thigh, and I bit down on her ear lobe, only just tasting her skin on my tongue and I could have groaned, had her hitching breath not beaten me to it.

Cauldron this would be the undoing of me.  
It was a game. A game. I could not let myself get carried away.

Yet my very blood sang for more.

Thumb and finger trailed against her thigh again, absent patterns, matched only by my hand at her ribs.  
Everyone could see us, that was the point. To make a statement. A fact I reiterated to Keir as he prattled on. But the man wasn’t to know the thoughts racing through my mind.

Feyre had practically melted against me and she was so warm. Like a furnace in my lap, I was almost fearful she was three seconds off from bursting into flames.  
Were we alone, were she to permit me to do so, I would have happily worshiped her from head to foot. But for that moment, I satisfied myself by briefly pressing my mouth to the dip of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin. Beneath my lips I could feel her pulse. What sounds would she make if I bit down just hard enough to mark her skin?

No.

Those were thoughts for another time.

This was not a moment for my own selfish indulgence, and Feyre was not a whore to be displayed to the court.

By way of apology, I pressed a kiss to her temple, a small enough gesture of affection that I could get away with it.

There was no amount of gratitude that would be enough to show my appreciation for everything she was doing for my people. For all of us.

Please, do not hate me. Do not fear me.

I could not deny that I had thought about Feyre in such a manner. More times than I cared to admit. The woman had crept into my mind until all I could imagine was the fullness of her breast against my hand, how she would squirm with my head between her legs, the taste of her on my tongue, the way she would call my name…  
But not like this.

Not among the scum and creatures of the court of nightmares.

She deserved better than that.

Better than me.

As if feeling the need to wrench me from my own mind, Feyre offered me a path into hers, just enough to her the softness of her voice as she reached out to gently nestle against my own shield. She was always so gentle. A warm touch against the coldness of that wall.

‘You are good, Rhys. You are kind. This mask does not scare me. I see you beneath it.’

And I believed her. Without hesitation. 

Instinctively, my hold tightened on her and with a certain tenderness, I leaned in to brush a gentle kiss against her flushed cheek, resisting the urge to brush my tongue along the heated skin.

'Why did you stop?’

Those words were cruel. An invitation to a world of trouble. Had Feyre no idea what she was already doing to me or was this all part of the game? We had agreed to what was necessary and more was…extending beyond that. Into the selfish. Into my desires.

The growl which rattled from me was a much a warning as it was an expression of lust.

My thumb only just grazed that soft, supple flesh which marked the underside of her breast. A little higher and I knew I would be able to feel the heaviness of her flesh, the firm peak of her nipple which was no doubt hard against the chiffon fabric which covered her directly from prying eyes.

The way Feyre reacted to me…opening herself, inviting my touch, head against my shoulder as if silently pleading.

'More, more, more.’

It was only then that I realized she was pleading, down the bond, whispering into my mind.

And the sound went straight to my cock.

Since I had urged Feyre into my lap it had been a struggle to control myself, but in that moment, just as she had, I let some part of my restraint fall away.

Yet Keir was watching. Intently. Disgusted. So this could still remain part of the act, as he was very much distracted by our little display.

I indulged then, tasting her skin, swiping my tongue over the dip of her neck and I had to shove the groan back down which threatened to bubble past my lips. Even her skin tasted unlike anything I would ever sample again. I could only imagine how the rest of her tasted.

The heat of her was like fire against my fingers which were curled so dangerously high on her thigh and I knew it wasn’t because of the powers the Autumn court had bestowed to her. And when she nestled back against me, the plump curve of her backside pressing obnoxiously towards my hips, in that moment, I had been caught.

My length, hard, aching, because of her was tucked so firmly against her, there was no way it could be ignore. Yet instead of fleeing from me, she began a cruel movement of her hips, writhing against me in a way that had the heat curling in the pit of my stomach.

Everything within me screamed to drag her to the nearest wall and fuck her senseless.

Instead I laughed. Low and commanding.

It just for show. Keir was watching. Azriel was gone. We were buying my spymaster time.

But Cauldron, how I wanted her.

When my hand slipped higher, it was without intention, yet I could feel the unmistakable wetness of her against my fingers. Hot and slick. Reacting to me, to us.  
And it took all I had not to drag those fingers to my lips and taste her. I didn’t care if they all watched as I claimed the very essence of her.

But something within her had dipped. Embarrassment or regret had added water to the flames that had burned so brightly within her. My touch, while accidental, had not been something she was expecting. Feyre had not wanted to me know how her body was responding to this.

'It’s fine. It means nothing. It’s just your body reacting-’  
'Because you’re so irresistible?’  
It was far from noting. For me, it was a silent hope. And an added flutter of ache in my chest. To be so close to her, to want her so desperately, to feel her through that bond without her realizing that we shared something so much deeper.

Now was not the time to dwell on thoughts of bonds and mates.

As if sensing the urgent change in our dynamic, Az appeared and with the smallest of confirmation, I knew he had achieved our goal.  
We had the orb.

I was grateful momentary for the distance between Feyre and myself as the woman slid so elegantly from my lap, allowing me a moment to breathe, to try and clear my mind even while I kept up the appearance of a sex-addled moron.

The wine was ignored.

And then Keir made his mistake.

“You’ll get what’s coming to you, whore.”

This time, it wasn’t a performance, as fury as raw as the stars itself exploded from within me, filling the court as I searched out Keir in the darkness, feeling his very being bend beneath my power. It would be so easy, to turn him to dust, to crush every bone in is pathetic body.  
Instead I settled for just a few bones.

This was the High Lord that the world famed me for.  
With Keir, I almost delightful in each crack of the bones breaking in his arm. The man deserved it and more for everything he had done. For the pain he had caused Mor, and for daring to use that word, for being stupid enough to call Feyre a whore.

For that, I crushed his other arm. I fragmented it, until the apology was forcibly choked from his cruel lips.  
When it came to my Steward, I would happily see him suffer. To experience some of what he had put his own daughter through. One day…one day my Inner Circle would take turns in tempting the man to his death.  
I dared glance towards Feyre and I saw the change in her eyes. It was…unreadable. But it wasn’t fear, wasn’t terror.

Please don’t fear me.

The plead was silent, a mental hum. But my shields were closed and now, so were hers.

Keir was removed and I settled back in my throne having truly established myself as the feared Lord these creatures of night and darkness followed


End file.
